Walls
by greengirlblue
Summary: Zero likes to pretend, sometimes, like now, that Yuuki is actually more aware of her actions and the resulting consequences thereof than she really is or, for that matter, ever will be. Series of unrelated drabbles focused on Zero.
1. Chapter 1

negotiations

* * *

Zero isn't surprised when Yuuki barges her way into the bathroom, again, unannounced, but that doesn't mean he's not annoyed. Before Yuuki can open her mouth to apologize (although it isn't an apology she's gunning for, not with that face; but Zero likes to pretend, sometimes, like now, that Yuuki is actually more aware of her actions and the resulting consequences thereof than she really is or, for that matter, ever will be), Zero spins her around by the shoulders and shoves her unceremoniously out the door. She takes three steps to check her fall, and then Yuuki is already whirling around to try and march her way right back in, but that plan comes to a screeching halt when she comes face-to-face with Zero instead. And it is only the _proximity_, not the look of death, disapproval and impending doom turned in her direction, that surprises her into stopping.

"Knock," Zero says without any inflection at all, and, while Yuuki is still blinking stupidly at him, he slams the door in her face. His pajama pants are right there on the bathroom sink, right out of his reach, of course, so he can only glare at them as he holds the towel around his waist and leans his weight against the door. The lock had been removed years ago by the chairman – not without good reason – but there are days, like today, when Zero seriously wonders what would happen if the chairman knew how often his darling adopted daughter walked in on his half-naked, unwillingly adopted son.

(Zero suspects that the chairman collects stray children the same way crazy old ladies collect cats.)

It takes Yuuki about two seconds to recover and try to force her way into the bathroom a second time. Zero digs his heels into the tile and hopes he doesn't slip. Despite the fact that this is a well-established ritual that happens at least once a week and has happened for the past three-to-four years, it's always a toss up between which will win: Yuuki's unwavering stubbornness or Zero's indignation.

"But I want to talk to you!" Yuuki complains from the other side of the door.

"And you can," Zero assures her. "From there."

"That's not talking to you. It's talking to a door!"

"Then talk to the door. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Ze_ro_!"

She stops twisting the knob of the bathroom in favor of slamming the flats of her palms against the door. _Thwack thwack thwack! _Although she's doing it out of frustration, Zero could _technically_ define that as "knocking".

"Okay," he says, grimaces because he knows he's going easy on her, because that seems to be the only thing he can do whenever she's around, and repeats himself: "Okay. Two minutes."

He can tell Yuuki is calculating all the potential damage he can do to himself within two minutes when she doesn't answer right away. That, or she's analyzing the possibility of his escaping, somehow, even with her standing guard at the only exit Zero can take. Zero can feel himself getting annoyed again, so despite the fact that he is wearing a towel only, despite the fact that he is determined that one day, Yuuki will learn how to knock and wait for permission to come into at least the bathroom, never mind his own room, despite the fact that he isn't stupid enough to try anything in here even if he wanted because Yuuki _is_ on the other side of that door and barges in all the time without any shame at all, Zero yanks the door open.

For a second, he lets Yuuki look at him,and also, he lets himself to look, really look, at Yuuki.

"I'm fine," he hears himself say in a low voice, and keeps his eyes locked with Yuuki's even though her steady gaze has always, always unnerved him. He pulls back when he notices her right hand twitch, knowing that if he isn't quick, it's going to end up on his arm, or against the side of his face, gentle and understanding, and that _isn't what he wants_.

He closes the door.

"Two minutes and counting," Yuuki confirms from the other side. Zero makes a grab for his pajamas.


	2. Chapter 2

translation

* * *

They used to build snow animals on the windowsill of Ichiru's room. Whenever Ichiru wasn't allowed outside during the winter because of some sort of complication, Zero would pick up interesting things from wherever it was that his master took him to train for the day. Holly berries, broken twigs, tiny pinecones no bigger than his thumbnail, green fir needles that were sticky with resin. Zero collected them one by one and put them in his pocket when he was sure his master wasn't looking, even though he was sure that Master must have known. The unspoken rule was: don't get caught.

At night, Zero, sore and scratched, and Ichiru, draped in several different layers of blankets, coats and flannel, stood next to each other and used the things that Zero had found to make the animals with the snow that had collected on the windowsill outside of Ichiru's room. Berries for eyes, twigs for ears, pinecones for paws and needles for stripes and whiskers.

That all stopped the day Zero watched Ichiru build a man with snow and the pills Ichiru was supposed to take before going to bed that night. Pink pills for the heart, blue pills for the lungs, white pills for the pain. When he was finished, Ichiru shoved the man off the windowsill, watched it explode on the ground below. With a faint smile, Ichiru flicked his eyes over to Zero.

"I hate this game."


	3. Chapter 3

adaptation

* * *

Kaname, of course, towers over him looking down. He has the same eyes as Yuuki – steady, unwavering. Blood is still dripping down the side of his face from the bullet that grazed past him, shot from Zero's gun. There is blood on his neck, too, smudged across his perfect, pale skin and thinned with saliva from Zero's eager mouth.

It's disorienting, taking someone else's blood. There are memories attached, as if the feelings imprinted into the heart filters into the veins. Zero is not a pureblood, obviously, so the memories are murky, unclear, nothing more than vague impressions, like waking up from a nightmare without remembering it.

"That hurt. You're like a barbarian."

"It was supposed to hurt," Zero grumbles, ignoring the second barb in favor of wiping blood from his chin with the side of his thumb. For a second, he isn't sure what to do with it – the blood. He has a memory, his own, something insignificant that he'd forgotten. Sitting under the kitchen table with Ichiru, their summer fort, both licking chocolate from their fingers because it had a tendency to melt. Zero's stomach turns at the thought, and he finishes by wiping his thumb on the knee of his pants. Isn't like he can wear them again, anyway, with torn fabric and streaks of someone else's blood spattered on it. He goes though school uniforms faster than the girls in his class go through boyfriends.

Zero almost misses it, but he looks up just in time to catch the irritated look Kaname throws at him before the expression flits away. Zero wonders if that is the pureblood equivalent of a mother scolding her child for not finishing a perfectly good meal. It's kind of funny. Almost human. But neither of them is good at pretending at what they aren't, and neither of them can claim to be human.


	4. Chapter 4

interpretation

* * *

Zero has lived in this place for the past four years, and even he can admit that there is something familiar and something comforting about being here. The hardwood floor under his bare feet in the mornings before school, breaking into the refrigerator for milk after midnight when everyone else is in bed, half-hearted attempts to keep the room where he sleeps clean – these are routines that Zero finds calming. He almost looks forward to them.

The problem, Zero realized early on, is that none of this can be his. The things that he loved, the things that he cherished most – they were all taken away from him in one night. Since it happened before, and since Zero has an unlucky tendency to invite disaster, he has to be careful, now, falling in love with the things that aren't his to begin with.

So he moves through the house, and he watches, and he appreciates what has been offered to him (Yuuki's kindness, the chairman's well-meaning optimism, a chance to protect), but he does not for a second think that any of it belongs to him.


	5. Chapter 5

opposition

* * *

"Nii-san?"

Zero doesn't even open his eyes, just pulls back the blanket, waits for the familiar shift in the mattress to finish, and tosses the blanket blindly over Ichiru when they're lying down together face-to-face. The fleece sleeve of Ichiru's pajamas and cotton material of Zero's shirt slide between them as Ichiru reaches his arm over Zero's side, adding fevered warmth to the pocket of air trapped between them as the blanket settles over them both.

Minutes tick by, but the rigid line of Ichiru's body in front of him doesn't relax. Right before Zero can ask what's wrong, Ichiru answers him.

"You shouldn't be so nice to me," Ichiru says abruptly. It's jarring and too loud, even if the darkness soaks it up like a sponge.

Zero opens his eyes. There's nothing to see – the air in this room is pitch black, like ink – but it's easy for Zero to draw himself closer to Ichiru, bed covers pulling and releasing and relaxing around him. Ichiru's arms adjust accordingly, around Zero's ribs and the small of his back, and Zero twines his legs through Ichiru's as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm not," Zero whispers, because what he really wants to say –

_I'm the one. I'm the one who doesn't deserve it._

– is lodged in his throat.

Ichiru finally relaxes against Zero as they hook their knees together, press their bodies against each other until there is no space left between them. Here, effortless and easy, breathing in slow, measured breaths, they stare at each other in the dark as if they could see, as if there were no walls.


End file.
